Down Syndrome News
in the Arts and Entertainment World
A Special Performance by a Special Child
iriya Narthana - 2, a special performance by a special child will be held at the BMICH on August 20 at 6.00 pm. Kosala Dullewa, a boy of 14 years afflicted with Down Syndrome, for the first time in the history of this country staged a "one man show" of oriental dancing in January this year at the BMICH. Kosala displayed his inborn ability to perform Bharatha Natyam to the delight of all those present. The proceeds of the entire show was channelled to fund the setting up of the "Diri Daru Piyasa" a centre to assist special children. The primary goal of the centre is to help and encourage special children and also to unearth their hidden talents like singing, dancing and other artistic abilities. Diri Daru Piyasa which started in March soon after the show has 100 special students today who are trained under the loving care and guidance of veteran artist Miranda Hemalatha and her staff. Kosala's performance has ignited the imagination and the enthusiasm of many parents of special children. Though the response has been very encouraging the centre is run with the minimum of facilities for trainers as well as students. Diriya Narthana - 2 is repeated by popular request to uphold the special cause of Diri Daru Piyasa.
Movie star with Down Syndrome breaks new ground for Russia's disabled
Provided by: Canadian Press
Written by: SARAH KARUSH
Sergei Makarov, 37 during a rehearsal of a play at the Moscow's Theater of Simple Souls, a troupe of actors with Down Syndrome. (AP /Alexander Zemlianichenko)
MOSCOW (AP) - For most of Sergei Makarov's 37 years, when people looked at him they saw what Russian society typically sees in those with Down syndrome - a helpless child.
Today they're looking at a movie star. Makarov played a leading role in Little Old Ladies, which took the top prize at Russia's most important film festival this year - a groundbreaking event in a country where attitudes toward the disabled are decades behind the West.
"What he did is practically the flight of (Yuri) Gagarin," the first man in space, said Makarov's father, Valery.
Makarov's modest fame stands out in a country with a history of pressuring parents into placing mentally disabled children in institutions where abuse and neglect were rampant.
Though attitudes are slowly changing, activists say that most children with Down syndrome still end up in the state's care and that cruelty still abounds in orphanages. Even those who remain with their families have few opportunities to realize themselves.
Makarov's parents refused to give up Sergei, but no school in their Moscow suburb would take him. His mother, Saima Makarova, taught him herself - with little encouragement. Officials said it wasn't worth educating him as he was sure to die by age 16 of the physical complications associated with Down syndrome.
"You can turn him inside out, but you'll never make anything out of him," she recalled a doctor telling her.
Three years ago, at 34, Makarov got the chance to prove otherwise when his parents stumbled upon Moscow's Theatre of Simple Souls, a troupe of actors with Down syndrome. Makarov joined and took the lead role in a play based on a story by 19th century author Nikolai Gogol.
"It gave him an interest in life. He went to rehearsals, met other kids," Makarova said.
Igor Neupokoyev, a professional actor and the troupe's volunteer director, said he founded the theatre in part to help people with Down syndrome become "complete" people.
"The ability to act is a very human ability," he said.
Gennady Sidorov was about to embark on his directing debut with Little Old Ladies when he discovered Makarov at a Simple Souls performance and cast him as a goat herder, the only man left in a village of about a half dozen old women.
Makarov seems to relish movie stardom. After a recent Moscow showing of Little Old Ladies, he stood near the exit, shaking hands with admirers.
Asked during an interview about his music tastes, he said, "I'm not a bad singer myself" - and demonstrated with a rendition of Love Me Tender - in English - in his gruff baritone.
Before joining the theatre, Makarov's main links to the outside world were television and newspapers, which he reads avidly. He rarely leaves the family's Moscow apartment unaccompanied because his parents fear neighbourhood bullies would tease him or worse.
Still, Makarov said he considers himself lucky.
"I have arms and I have legs," he said. "There are people who have no arms and no legs."
The 3½ months Makarov spent on location in the northern Russian countryside changed his life, he said. He forged lasting friendships, learned about the movie business and earned his first wages, which he used to pay for long-delayed dental work. Now he hopes publicity from the movie will help the Simple Souls acquire their own stage.
Nikita Romanenko, who plays a flamboyant city dweller who returns to the village to bury his mother, said he was initially skeptical about working with someone with Down syndrome.
"He turned out to be a very disciplined, very responsive partner who actually helped me a lot in my own role," Romanenko said.
But Makarov's parents say they are not holding out for a continuation of his movie career.
"Russian society isn't ready for this," Valery Makarov said.
The significance of Makarov's cinema debut for Russia's disabled was largely ignored in Russian reviews of the movie and reports from Russia's biggest film festival, Kinotavr. The movie has had only limited showings in Russia - in part because the old women's cussing goes beyond the norms of Russian cinema.
Makarov said he would welcome more acting opportunities, though his main wish for the future is closer to home: "My biggest dream is that my parents live a long, long time and never have any regrets."
The crowning moment of Makarov's odyssey came in June when he went to the Black Sea resort of Sochi to help represent Little Old Ladies at the Kinotavr festival. When the master of ceremonies announced the film had won the Golden Rose - the festival's top prize - director Sidorov brought Makarov on stage.
Makarov had not been expecting to make a speech. His father, who was watching the ceremony on TV in Moscow, recalled a pang of fear: Would Sergei know what to say in front of all these people?
Taking the prize, Makarov blew a kiss to the audience and then planted one on the Golden Rose.
"Thank you, my friends," he said. "I love you all."
